At the Psychiatrist’s Office

This morning I had an appointment with my psychiatrist. I don’t like having to miss work, but at least I didn’t have to take the whole day off.

The waiting room is quite an adventure. I always dread walking into the lobby after I sign in. Avoiding any eye contact because a lot of the patients are scary-looking, I take the nearest chair available. Sometimes I have to walk around until I find one that’s vacant.

One time I sat down in a (seemingly) empty seat only to be berated by a young woman who was built like a UFC cage fighter. Not wanting any trouble, I quickly got up and found another place.

Sadly, in this day and age, I never know where someone’s anger is going to lead them. I’ve seen too many news stories about road rage or (fill in the blank) rage. The last thing I need is having a knife or a gun pulled on me by a mentally unstable person.

Today, like most times I come here, there was an obese blonde lady who started going off on the receptionist because the employee “was rudely talking on the phone with another patient” while the blonde lady was paying her bill. I sort of get used to the “F” word being thrown around at full volume. Such is life in a crowded psychiatric waiting room.

I just wish there were more psychiatrists in this country. Due to a shortage, doctors can only spend a few minutes with each patient because they are so overbooked. This morning, though, after quickly adjusting the dosage of my meds, I was able to slip a question in.

“Doctor, would it be a good idea to start a blog about my mental problems? That way I can interact with people who have the same problems.”

“Absolutely not,” he stated, nearly cutting off my last two syllables. “For a more stable person, yes, but since you are on shaky ground, I would say no.”

Then the Holy Spirit took over. “Well, what if I made the blog positive? With a theme of faith and hope?”

My doctor stared at me for a moment. “I suppose that would be okay. Just nothing dark or depressing. You’re still staying away from that black metal, right?”

My cheeks became warm. He remembered my taboo fascination with a very underground genre of heavy metal. “I’m still in the process of weaning myself off.” The energy and raw emotion in black and death metal had drawn me to it, but I was in the process of giving it up.

Even my wife, who isn’t even a Christian, has begged me to stop listening to extreme metal. It will take you to a dark place for good, she always says.

Anyway, I have revamped this blog to make it more “positive” because, after all, it’s my new *gasp* ministry.